Hole
by jadey36
Summary: Robin Hood and Guy of Gisborne find themselves in a tricky situation.
1. Hole

_Author's Note: written for the prompt: Guy/Robin/Hole_

* * *

><p><strong>Hole<strong>

Robin Hood knew he was taking a big risk trading blows with Guy of Gisborne on top of the abandoned Treeton mines. It should have come as no surprise therefore, when, with a rumble and a rush, the ground gave way beneath them and both men found themselves plummeting into a black void.

It was not, however, an old mine shaft they found themselves in, but a disused well – disused, no doubt, because it contained not a drop of water, for which Guy of Gisborne was immensely grateful since he couldn't swim to save his life.

Fortunately, the well was also a reasonably short drop, and apart from the odd bruise and scrape, both men had come out of the fall relatively unscathed.

Unfortunately, the sides of the well were as slippery as they looked and, in the space of a heartbeat, both men realised they were trapped down there until either they could figure a way out, or someone came to rescue them.

With a howl of rage, Guy disentangled himself from Robin's encircling arms.

"What the fuck are you playing at, Hood?"

"Nothing. I was just bracing for impact."

"Well kindly keep your filthy outlaw hands to yourself." Guy looked up at the well's entrance and the clear blue sky beyond. "Your gang know you're here, right?"

"No." Robin smiled, clearly unperturbed by their predicament. "They have no idea where I am right now."

Guy muttered a few choice expletives, smacking a gloved hand into the side of the well as he did so.

"I'm guessing by that," Robin said, his smile still lingering, "that no-one knows where you are either?"

"You guessed right."

Guy turned to the circular wall and spent a couple of fruitless minutes trying to claw his way up the slimy stonework before giving up. Folding his arms tightly across his chest, he stared accusingly at Robin.

"What?" Robin raised his eyebrows at Guy in a gesture of innocent protest. "You don't think I planned this, do you?"

"I wouldn't put it past you."

"Look, Gisborne." Robin folded his arms across his chest, imitating Guy. "I don't want to be stuck in this confined space with you any more than you want to be here with me, but until help comes along there's not much we can do about it."

Guy knew Robin was right. They had no way of getting out of the well and nothing they could use to help them, their swords having been discarded prior to their fist fight, along with Robin's trusty bow.

"So I suggest," Robin continued, "that you quit your moaning and keep an ear out for anyone who might come by."

Guy could tell that Robin was as unconvinced as he that anyone would stumble upon them in the near future.

"Perhaps we could tunnel our way out?"

Guy tore off his black leather gloves and stuck an index finger in between the cracks in the stones.

"Don't be ridiculous," Robin scoffed. "It'll take us forever to do that and we'll likely end up flooding the place. This well was dug here for a reason."

"Wells are supposed to be full of water," was Guy's pithy observation.

Robin smiled, pressing his back into the wall behind him to give Guy some digging space, small though that space was.

"If the prospect of drowning alongside me appeals," he said, "you go right ahead."

"Argh," Guy exploded, after several minutes of scraping and accomplishing nothing other than acquiring a few dirty and broken fingernails.

"Relax." Robin said, picking at his own dirty fingernails. "It could be worse."

There was a moment's silence, then Guy said, quietly, "It's worse."

"How so?" Robin asked.

"Because I need to...you know."

"What?"

"You know." Guy nodded towards the ground.

"No. I don't know. What?"

"Piss," Guy snapped. "I need to take a piss, all right!"

"Ah," said Robin, glancing up at the sky and the unreachable neck of the well. "Tricky." Trying not to laugh, he continued, "Can't you do something to take your mind off it?"

"Like what?" Guy retorted. "We can hardly play _I Spy_."

"Oh, I don't know." Robin grinned. "There must be lots of things we could spy: mud, stones, worms, damp walls, tree roots, water running down the walls, more water—"

"Will you just shut up with the water thing," Guy growled, his nose a scant couple of inches from Robin's nose.

"Boy," Robin said, pressing the tip of his nose to Guy's. "You're hot when you're angry. Now I can see why Marian took such a shine to you."

Guy flicked his long fringe out of his eyes and pulled back an arm. Robin ducked. Guy's balled fist connected with the wall.

Unsure whether to clutch his throbbing hand or his equally throbbing bladder, Guy glared at Robin.

"Turn around," Robin said.

"What? Why? So you can stab me in the back?" Guy said, licking his bleeding knuckles.

"No," Robin replied, kindly. "So you can...you know...sort yourself out."

"You are joking, I hope. If you think I'm going to get my prick out when I'm this close to you, you've got another think coming."

"I promise I won't look. Besides." Robin's face contorted as he tried to suppress a bubble of laughter. "I'll be too busy keeping out of the way of the flow, so to speak."

"No," Guy said, vehemently shaking his head. "I'll wait."

"You know," said Robin, looking Guy up and down, "there are other ways we could take your mind off it, apart from the _I Spy_ thing, that is."

"Such as what?" Guy asked. "And what do you mean by _we_?"

"Turn around and I'll show you."

"This is some kind of guessing game, right?" Guy asked.

"Sort of."

"You're not going to hurt me, are you?"

"No, I'm not going to hurt you. At least, I hope not."

Satisfied the outlaw was being sincere, Guy turned around, his back to Robin.

Flexing his fingers, Robin quickly and efficiently plunged them into Guy's leather breeches.

Guy yelped, a small trickle of piss escaping as he did so.

"What the hell are you playing at, Hood?"

"Keep still," Robin whispered into Guy's left ear, grunting as he frantically worked the laces on his own breeches.

"No," Guy protested. "We are not going to—"

He yelped again as a bow-string calloused finger found his hole and started working its way into it.

Guy made a small groaning noise – clearly not one of protest – and, with increasing confidence, Robin started sliding his finger in and out.

"You know when I said you're hot when you're angry?"

"Yes?" Guy managed, in between increasingly fast breaths. He had to admit, Robin's exploring finger was certainly taking his mind off the need to relieve himself.

"You're actually quite hot even when you're not angry," Robin said, his breath warm against Guy's exposed neck. "And if it weren't for the fact that I'm Robin Hood, and that a certain Lady Marian seems to think we are betrothed, I'd have tried this ages ago."

Robin yanked his hand out of Guy's leathers, skimmed his middle finger over the slimy walls and then worked it back into Guy's hole, adding a second and then a third digit. The fact that Guy kept quiet during the whole of this, and the fact that he'd in the meantime worked his leathers a goodly way down his thighs, left Robin in no doubt that the sheriff's lieutenant was up for a bit of hanky panky.

"You know," Robin said, finally unknotting his laces with a happy sigh, "I've often thought about being stuck in your hole...I mean..." He winked – even though he knew the wink was lost on the man facing the wall – "being stuck in a hole with you."

"And I, too, have thought about—"

Guy cocked an ear.

Robin heard it, too. Voices, distant, but growing ever nearer.

Swivelling his head around as far as it would go, Guy hissed, "Keep quiet."

"Why?" Robin asked. "I thought you wanted to get out of here? I thought you were desperate to water a friendly tree?"

"It'll wait," Guy replied, working his leathers down to his knees and pressing his backside further into Robin's still probing fingers. "Now, keep going."

Robin grinned. It seemed that the risk of trading blows with Gisborne above Treeton's many hidden chasms had been worth it after all.

**to be continued...**


	2. Hole 2

_Robin and Guy are still trapped in a well doing naughty things to each other. _

_Warning for fetish/watersports (mild) and general silliness. _

* * *

><p><strong>Hole 2<strong>

"You know," Robin says, sliding his fingers from Guy's hole and smiling into the well's gloom, "this could turn out to be a long, and increasingly cold, night."

"Your point being?" Guy asks, jiggling both with agitation at Robin's sudden withdrawal of digits and the fact he is still desperate to relieve himself.

"My point," Robin says, "is that we don't want things to be over too quickly, leaving us with the rest of the night either trying to kill each other, or playing a very boring game of _I Spy_ where everything begins with the letter D."

"D?"

"Yes, for dark," Robin explains. "Or in your case, desperate."

"Then what do you want us to do about it?" Guy asks, savagely yanking up his leathers and thinking that perhaps he should resume trying to kill Robin Hood after all.

"I want you to start by calming down," Robin says.

"That's easy for you to say." Guy swings round to face the outlaw. "You're not the one close to wetting himself."

"Actually, that's not quite true," Robin says. "Feel."

Robin grabs Guy's hand and eases it between the lacings of his breeches.

"You're as hard as a rock," Guy exclaims.

"Yes, I am. And I'm also a little bit damp."

Robin drags Guy's hand down until it is inside his braies.

"Ugh! Is that your spunk, Hood?"

"Don't be ridiculous. I'm not some wet-nosed whelp, Guy. I do know how to control myself."

"Then what is—"

"When you were talking about needing to go, I thought I might try and empathise with you a little."

"What, by pissing yourself?"

"It was only a little bit."

"You mean there's more to come?"

"Absolutely."

Even in the half-gloom, Guy can make out Robin's wicked smile.

"So," Robin says, dragging the word out. "I was thinking that maybe we could...you know."

"No," Guy snaps. "I don't know. All I know is that we're trapped in this godforsaken hole, and that by the time someone comes to our rescue we might well be drowning in our own piss."

"If that's going to be the case," Robin says. "Why don't we at least try to enjoy it?"

"By doing what exactly?" Guy asks, the need to go so acute now he is actively thinking about crossing his legs.

"By sharing the experience."

"Sharing?" Guy's eyes widen as he realises what Robin's hinting at, or at least what he thinks Robin is hinting at.

"Come on, Guy. Don't tell me it hasn't crossed your mind since we've been down here."

"It hasn't crossed my mind, Hood. And don't call me Guy."

"What should I call you then? Sir my-backside-is-aching-for-Robin's-cock Gisborne? Or perhaps, Sir I-want-Robin-to-ram-his thing-where-the-sun-don't-shine Gisborne?"

"I'll ram _you_ in a minute," Guy snarls.

Robin waggles his eyebrows. "That was the general idea."

Guy fumbles with his belt buckle, muttering curses and threatening to burn down every village within a fifty-mile radius of the 'bloody Treeton mines'.

"Here, let me help," Robin says, grabbing the offending belt buckle.

Guy relents. He needs all his concentration just to keep hold of his increasingly aching bladder.

However, instead of doing up the buckle, Robin flips the two pieces of belt aside and pulls down Guy's leathers along with his linen braies. He encircles Guy's cock with a slightly trembling hand.

"What do you think you're doing?" Guy asks. "Have you forgotten that I need to—ah, ah."

The outlaw gives Guy's cock a gentle squeeze.

"Please," Guy says, close to begging now. "Don't do that."

"Now," Robin says, his voice husky with desire. "I know you're desperate, and I know that when you let this lot go you're probably going to piss like a warhorse. But just to please me, do you think you could manage to stay exactly where you are the whole time it's going on." Robin presses into Guy's chest.

Guy's heart thumps wildly at the thought. "You're not seriously suggesting...are you out of your tiny outlaw mind? What about when rescue comes? What the hell is it going to look like?"

"It's going to look like we've both been sitting in water at the bottom of a well," Robin says, trying to ignore the feel of Guy's twitching cock on his inner thigh and his own mighty arousal.

"What do you mean both?" Guy asks. "There's no way you're going to—"

"Aww, come on," Robin cuts across him. "Don't be a spoilsport. I'm letting you go first after all."

Guy doesn't answer, is too busy trying to hold back the tide. There is no way on earth he is going to do what Robin has just asked him to do. He'd sooner turn around and quietly piss in his own leathers.

The moment he thinks that, of course, the floodgates open.

Robin groans and pulls Guy closer, clearly enjoying the sensation of a warm flow running down his legs.

Aghast, Guy grits his teeth.

"That can't be it, surely?" Robin says, nibbling Guy's neck.

"Get off me, you dirty, filthy outlaw," Guy snarls, slamming his back into the wall, and adding another splash of piss to his already wet leathers. "You come one step closer and I swear I'll kill you with my bare hands."

"I spy," Robin says in a singsong voice, "with my little eye, something beginning with D."

"Dark," Guy snaps. "Now piss off."

"Unfortunate choice of words, Guy."

With nowhere to go, Guy cannot escape as Robin steps forward, clutches Guy's upper arms and presses his lips firmly to Guy's lips.

Guy's not been been kissed by a man before. Strangely, if he can ignore the prickle of beard and the distinctly masculine odour, Guy is finding the kiss rather sexy.

Without thinking too long and hard about it, Guy parts Robin's lips with his tongue.

Robin's hand sneaks back into Guy's leathers. "Now," he murmurs, "where were we?"

Guy gets it. No matter how dirty and degraded it might be, Robin wants this. Besides, Guy is now past the point of no return, helpless to ignore the call of nature any longer.

With a deep sigh, he lets go.

Robin stops kissing him, simply buries his head into Guy's shoulder, almost mewling with delight.

Eventually, Guy is finished, the relief so great he almost makes the mistake of thanking Robin. He clears his throat.

"Robin, I—"

"You called me Robin." Robin lightly kisses Guy's firm jaw.

"So?"

"So, that's the first nice thing you've said to me since we fell into this hole."

"And it'll be the last if you don't..."

"If I don't what?"

"Reciprocate."

Guy grabs hold of Robin's exposed cock and buries it inside his leathers.

"Your turn," he says with a smirk.

Robin closes his eyes, concentrates.

"Can't," he says after a protracted silence.

"What do you mean, can't?" Guy asks

"I mean I can't."

"Then let me help you." Guy eases Robin out of both his leathers and his arms. "Let's play _I Spy_."

"How can we—"

"I spy," Guy interrupts, "with my little eye, something beginning with W."

"W?"

"Yes," Guy says, "W. For water, for wet, warm, wanton, watery, running—"

"Running doesn't start with W," Robin protests.

"Oh, for God's sake," Guy utters. "Will you just get on with it and return the favour."

"Whisper those words in my ear and I will," Robin says.

Guy complies.

Robin remembers that it rained yesterday, that the camp roof leaked and that Much put a couple of pails near to their sleeping area in order to catch the drips. Robin remembers the sound of the rain hitting the wooden pails – drip, drip, drip. Robin doesn't think he should piss over Guy's hand, but he does. Guy doesn't seem to mind.

When he is finished, Robin steps away. It is too dark in the hole now to see Guy's face properly, but there is enough light to make out the whites of Guy's teeth.

"Now what?" Robin asks.

"Now," Guy says, "we'll move onto the letter M."

"M?"

"For masturbate. You'd like to watch me thresh the corn wouldn't you, Robin? After all, you did say we had hours to kill. No point in us getting to the grand finale too quickly, is there?"

Robin grins. "Absolutely not."

Guy places a hand on either side of Robin's head and kisses him, fiercely. Then he removes one hand and slips it into his wet leathers. "Same deal as with the pissing stuff?" he asks.

"Same deal." Robin presses into Guy's chest and nuzzles his neck relishing the feeling of Guy's warm skin beneath his lips.

"No need to wait for me," Guy whispers into Robin's ear.

Robin does not need any encouragement and quickly fingers his own stiff cock, slipping it between Guy's willingly open legs.

Guy grins. Robin had been right. It was going to be a long, and increasingly cold, night.

It was also going to be a very wet one.

**to be continued...**


	3. Hole 3

_Robin and Guy are still trapped in a disused well, playing an indecent game of I Spy and waiting to be rescued._

_Warning: voyeurism (mild)_

* * *

><p><strong>Hole 3<strong>

"What was that?" Guy hisses.

"What was what?"

"That shuffling sound."

"You're imagining things," Robin tells him. "Now, keep going. I'm nearly there."

Guy closes his eyes, concentrates on the steady backwards and forwards movement of his right hand. He shivers every time Robin's knuckles graze his own. Any moment now, he knows they will shoot their load between each other's open thighs. It is both a mortifying and miraculous thought. The letter M, in Robin's childish game of _I Spy_, is certainly turning out to be one of Guy's better choices since he and Robin earlier traded blows above the treacherous Treeton Mines.

"Wait." Robin steps away, his back hitting the slimy-stoned wall of the well.

"What?" Guy snarls.

"I can hear it now. That shuffling sound, that—"

"That sound of someone who's found you out." Sheriff Vaisey waves a flaming torch above the well's opening. "Well, well, well, Gisborne. All this time, I thought you were saving yourself for the leper and here you are, caught with your trousers down with none other than my favourite outlaw, Robin-holier-than-thou-Hood." The sheriff looks appreciatively at Robin's exposed privates. "I always knew there was another side to you, Locksley."

"This is not...this is not what it looks like," Guy splutters, frantically tugging on his leather breeches, cursing that they've lost their usual slipperiness thanks to his and Robin's earlier wet games.

"Oh, I think it's exactly what it looks like." The sheriff lowers the torch further into the well, grins a gold-toothed grin. "You were supposed to catch the outlaw, Gisborne, not fuck him senseless."

There is no vitriol in the sheriff's words; one might almost say he sounds happy.

"I am not—"

"Shush, shush, Guy." The sheriff raises a finger to his lips. "No need to explain. The question is, what am I going to do about it?"

"What do you mean, what are you going to do about it? You're going to get me out of here."

"Unless I'm very much mistaken, and, by the amount of flesh showing I think that I'm not, a moment ago you were more than happy with your situation. You too, Hood."

"Just keeping my end up, sheriff." Robin leans against the wall, seemingly indifferent to his dropped breeches.

Guy glares at the outlaw. "If I have to spend one more minute in this fucking hole, I swear I will tear you limb from limb, Hood. I will—"

"Ah," the sheriff interrupts, "fucking and hole in the same sentence. Music to my ears, Gisborne, music to my ears." He pulls a small dagger out of his belt and begins to dig, close to the well's edge.

"What are you doing?" Guy asks

"Yes," Robin chimes in, "what are you doing?"

"As Guy here will tell you, I like to watch. Which is why," the sheriff says, as he lowers the non-fiery end of the torch into the hole he has just dug, "I need my hands free. Well, hand technically, but a change is as good as a rest, as they say."

With that, Vaisey starts to unbuckle his trousers.

"I don't believe it," Robin mutters.

"Believe it," Guy says with a sigh.

"Why in heaven's name you would choose to perform your dirty little deeds in a cold, dark well, I have no idea." Vaisey sinks to his knees, slides a heavily ringed hand into his silky black underpants. "Next best thing to a broom cupboard I suppose. Well, go on then, get on with it!"

"No bloody way," Guy snaps.

"What he says," Robin adds.

"If you don't," the sheriff warns, "then you will find yourselves in hot water, or should I say hot molten lead, since that is what I will be pouring down this hole if you don't, how shall I put it?" The front of his underpants jiggle. "_Entertain_ me."

"Hot molten lead," Robin scoffs. "Where the hell are you going to get—"

Two helmeted faces appear at the top of the well – Vaisey's guards. In between them, sitting on a small-wheeled wooden platform, is a large, steaming cauldron. Whether molten lead, or just boiling water, neither Robin nor Guy fancy having it rain down on their heads.

Vaisey orders the guards away, adding a few threats about them going home with fewer limbs than they came out with if they don't keep quiet about what has gone on here tonight.

Guy looks at Robin. Robin nods.

"You win, sheriff," Robin calls.

Awkwardly, the two men press into one another, their free hand clutching each other's sleeves, the other tentatively fingering their 'let's-call-it-a-day' cocks.

"Does the sheriff really like to watch?" Robin whispers.

"Yes. And if you tell a soul about it, I'll tell everyone about you and me, about this."

"Won't say a thing," Robin assures him. "Now, where were we?"

"M, I believe. But I'm not certain I can—"

"Neither can I," Robin interrupts. "But we can pretend, can't we? And once the sheriff's had his fun, he'll get us out of here. Then you can distract him and I can make a run for it."

"And then he'll have my guts for garters, for doing this with you and not him. I think I'd rather stay down here."

"Come on, come on," the sheriff demands. "I haven't got all night. And stand farther apart. I can't see what's going on."

"There'll be nothing going on if you keep interrupting," Robin warns. "How come he's here anyway?" This whispered to Guy. "I thought he didn't give a flying fig about you?"

"I guess he was having trouble getting to sleep," Guy says through gritted teeth.

"Ah, I see." Robin closes his eyes and buries his face into Guy's shoulder. He breathes deeply, thinks he could grow to like the smell of leather. The bulky ring on Guy's middle finger drags along the back of Robin's hand. Robin's cock twitches. "Maybe we don't have to pretend after all."

"Maybe not," Guy agrees.

Above them, the sheriff hisses, "Yes, yes, yes." Small stones and a sprinkling of dry soil fall into the well.

"Ignore him," Guy growls.

"Doing it," Robin says.

Robin is imagining Guy jerking off in the sheriff's bedchamber, minus the sheriff. Guy is imagining Robin jerking off in the forest, minus the gang. The sheriff is imagining what's about to happen to his nice clean underpants, as he mutters, "Busy hands make light work."

Once again, the letter M looks about to come to fruition – for all three men – when the crack of a whip shatters both the stilly night and the men's concentration.

"Oh, for pity's sake!" the sheriff barks.

For once, both Robin Hood and Guy of Gisborne are in complete agreement with him.

Reluctantly, the two men step apart. A flaming torch plummets into the well. Yelping, they hastily stamp on it. With the torch, as well as their respective ardour, extinguished, Robin and Guy look skywards.

What they see is another fiery torch. This time, it is not the sheriff holding it aloft but the Night Watchman.

"Mari—" Robin clamps a hand over his mouth.

"What did you say?" Guy asks.

"Er...marry me when this is over?" Robin twitters nervously.

Marian lowers the torch into the well, peers downwards.

"What the hell are you two playing at?" she demands. _Oops_. She clamps a hand over her mask.

"_You!_" Guy barks. "_You're_ the Night Watchman!"

Marian lays the torch on the edge of the well and rips off her mask.

"The question still stands," she says, hands on hips. "What are you both doing, and why are your trousers hanging around your knees?"

"Er...would you believe we were playing _I Spy_, my love?" Robin winces.

"No, I wouldn't. And don't you _my love_ me, Robin Hood. You were supposed to be meeting me to tell me about those taxes that—" Marian clamps a hand over her mouth. _Oops again_.

"It's the truth," Guy says, completely missing the implication behind Marian's unintentional disclosure as Robin shouts, "Rats! There are rats down here."

"Where, where?" Guy squeaks.

"My mistake." Robin grins. "It was your foot."

Guy looks up at Marian. "We really were playing _I Spy_. We...er...just ran out of things to spy."

Robin smiles. Gisborne displaying a sense of humour. Will wonders never cease?

"Rubbish!" Marian retorts. "And what were the sheriff and his goons doing here?"

"Talking of whom," Robin cuts in. "How did you manage to scare them off so easily?"

Marian twirls the soft leather mask around her index finger, smiles. "When they saw me coming they scarpered. As for the sheriff, I guess he didn't fancy feeling the lash of my whip." She pats the coiled length of leather belted onto her right hip.

"That's where you're wrong," Guy says. "The sheriff is never one to turn down—" Guy clamps a hand over his mouth. _Oops_.

"Well?" Marian says, tapping her foot, Guy's near slip totally lost on her.

"That's right, Marian." Robin smiles up at her. "I told Guy there was a well somewhere around here, but he didn't believe me." He nudges Guy, whispers, "Is the sheriff the one who does the whipping, or do you—"

"That's it!" Marian spits, stamping her foot. "I'm getting that cauldron and—"

"Marian, wait!" Guy calls.

Marian turns around, peers back down the well.

"Look. I'll come clean," Guy says.

"Dirty, clean, I'll take you any way you come," Robin says so only Guy can hear.

"You see, Marian." Guy kicks Robin in the shin, none too gently. "The sheriff has trouble sleeping and to help him get to sleep he likes to, you know." Guy nods towards his groin.

"Likes to what?"

"You know." Fingers loosely curled into his palm, Guy makes a forwards, backwards gesture with his right hand.

"Play dice?" Marian says.

"No, not dice. You know." He repeats the hand gesture, with more emphasis this time.

Marian creases her brow. "Fishing?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake! Is she always this dim, Robin?"

"Not always, no. It's just she's never seen a man jerk off before. Not even when me and her—" Robin clamps a hand over his mouth. _Oops_.

"Oh." Marian's eyes widen, the penny finally dropping. "He likes to play with his..." She trails off, grabs the flaming torch and leans farther into the well.

"Finally!" Guy exclaims.

"But what's that got to do with you two standing in the bottom of a well with your...your...rods hanging out?" Despite the chilly night air, Marian is suddenly sweaty, and not just under her armpits. Her lips form a tight little O. A few more pennies drop.

"Robin...I mean, Hood and I were fighting when the earth gave way and we found ourselves trapped down here. We've been trying to get out for ages."

"Among other things," Robin mutters.

"And," Guy continues, kicking Robin's other shin, "the sheriff found us down here and ordered us to, you know, get our rods out to help him with his, you know, dice game, I mean fishing, and... Fuck it. You tell her, Robin."

"No need," Marian says. "I get it. The sheriff likes to watch men playing with their ding-dongs instead of having a bedtime story read to him. Now I know why you walk around with a permanent scowl on your face." This directed at Guy.

"I do the bedtime story thing as well," Guy mumbles.

Robin snorts in amusement. Guy stamps on his foot.

"Marian. Did you happen to bring a rope with you?" Robin asks.

Marian doesn't answer. How many times has she dreamed of seeing what Robin and Guy keep hidden in their breeches? Now here they both are, trapped in a confined space with their breeches down. Talk about Heaven!

"Marian!" Robin snaps.

"Oh, yes, what?"

"Rope. Have you got a rope?"

"Yes, sorry. It's on my horse. I'll go fetch it." Marian turns, accidentally kicking the still blazing torch into the well. The two men hastily stamp on the flames.

"At this rate," Guy grumbles, "we're going to end up burning to a crisp rather than freezing to death."

"Listen," Robin says, knowing Marian will soon return. "You know about Marian and I know about Vaisey's little games. How about we call it evens? You forget about the Night Watchman and I'll forget about your bedtime shenanigans with the sheriff."

"Deal."

"One more thing," Robin says.

"What?"

"I'm still...I'd still like to—"

"Me too." Guy inwardly curses. Did he have to sound so keen?

"There's a cave in the forest, near to—"

"I know it," Guy interrupts.

"I'll meet you there."

"When?" Guy asks.

"Tomorrow night. You can do anything you like with me. Pick any letter that takes your fancy."

"I'm thinking the letter F." Guy grins.

"For fishing," Robin says and laughs.

"Here," Marian calls. She throws down a length of rope and promptly starts shinnying down it.

"Marian, what are you doing?" Robin asks.

Marian continues to work her way down the rope and then drops between the two men. "Like the sheriff," she says, a mischievous glint in her eye, "I'm having a little trouble sleeping. I thought maybe you two boys could help me." She waggles her index finger.

Robin's lips form a tight little O. The penny drops. "Guy, I think Marian would like to go fishing with us. What do you think?"

"I'm game if you are," Guy grins.

"All right, Marian, you're on. On one condition."

"What's that?"

"When we get out of here we never talk of this again."

"Agreed."

"Guy?"

"Agreed."

"In that case," Robin says, "I spy, with my little eye, something beginning with..."

Guy laughs. Robin was right – this is going to be a cold and increasingly wet night. An interesting one, too. For all three of them.

**The end**


End file.
